Never Tickle a Sleeping Draco
by GinnyWazlibRocks
Summary: An expedition journal and audio recording of Fred and George's adventure into the Slytherian House. Target: Malfoy. Why: Why not? And what will happen when they stumble upon a surprising secret? Rated for mild language. No ships. Final chapie up!
1. Entry

Never Tickle a Sleeping Draco

GinnyWazlibRocks

Despite many hopes, dreams, prayers to who ever above, _and_ the "most defiantly" answer on my Magic 8 Ball, I do not own the Harry Potter books, or what other random references that have either coincidently or not been spotted in this fic. Curses.

Please don't judge too harshly. Seriously, I was not dropped on my head as a baby, though you may think so. I realize that they're most likely not in character most of the time, but it they were, they wouldn't call this a humor fic.

But I shall tarry not! I will stop this freakish rambling and give you the story that may crack your ribs from laughing, (this is my goal. Please don't sue), or emotionally scar you. (Again, legal action isn't nice.)

Read on!

Oct. 24, Friday

6:45 pm

Today is the day. The big one. The day we've all been waiting for. Today George and I will be going undercover and sneaking into the Slytherin House to prank Malfoy. This diary-ahem-_expedition journal_ is our link to the outside world. It is the only thing reminding us that we are no Frank and Gary, suspiciously identical but not twin, brothers.

This mission will be dangerous. It will be hard. If we don't make it our, this diary-ahem-_expedition journal_ will tell the world of our victories, should we not make it back to tell it ourselves.

Right. George needs me to help pack our arseic supply. Apparently one vile just exploded over the pumpkin juice.

This is Fred, signing off.

Oct 24, Friday

10:30 pm

Audio Recording

_Click. Static, then heavy breathing. Footsteps echoing faintly._

Fred: We're in the dungeons, approaching the common room. We learned from a secure source where it's located.

George: Harry, if you're listening, thanks!

Fred: Hey! That was supposed to be a secret! Now all the Slytherians will want to kill him!

George: I figured that since half the world already wants him dead, 50 more people aren't going to matter.

Fred: Fair point, well made.

_Footsteps continue for five minutes, and then stop._

George: Ready, Fred?

Fred: Ready, George.

George: Alohamora!

Fred: You know, it's really quite easy to break into here.

George: I know. No barking dogs, no tin cans, no gel thumbprint scanner…we should've done this years ago!

Fred: Yeah…Let's have codenames!

George: Um…What?

Fred: I'll be "Fox Stalker"!

George: Aren't you Frank?

Fred: But that's no fun…

George: It's fine.

Fred: But-

_Cat meows, making both twins gasp._

Fred: Darn it! We need to reach safety! Filch is sure to be here soon!

George: You're right. Quick, in!

_Creaking door, fabric rubbing against the speaker. Click._

Oct 24, Friday

11:57 pm

We have safely reached safety. After passing through the hideous common room without attracting too much attention, aside from the small incident concerning one punching telescope and a priceless work of enchanted Greek pottery we found private rooms in one of the many, many hallways. Our disguises went unnoticed, and we even managed to locate Malfoy's dorm. All and all, hopes are high, and we are to go ahead with plans tomorrow morning.

Scratch that last part, as it now _is_ tomorrow. As much as tomorrow can ever really be, for it shall never actually _be_ tomorrow, just as we will never be in the future…-

Ah, screw it. I'm going to bed.

This is George, signing off.

Oct 25, Saturday

12:05 am

I've acquired this diary-ahem-_expedition journal_ from my now snoring brother. The reason being is for a small correction: It said, "Hopes are high". Actually, hopes are _mildly_ high, as the Slytherians don't seem to like us very much. Apparently it was a very special piece of pottery.

But still, we shall continue with the mission. I can't illustrate further, for risk of this being discovered by enemies while my comrade and I doze. However, if we are still functional by evening, you will know…you will know…

This is Fred, signing off.


	2. Mission Swamp Up

Yes! My first update! Woot! (I'm a newbie at this, can you tell?)

To Luna-Lunak and Jimmy Cricket: Thank you so much for reviewing! It was the first reviews I've ever gotten. You totally made my day. Rock on! I really don't know how the Twins got in. Maybe they just had some false mustaches. This fic doesn't have a lot of background. And the Slytherins liked the vase because…uh…well….'cause it was a horcrux. Yes. There's your answer.

Also, does anyone read Artemis Fowl? Did anyone catch the reference in the first chapter?

Um, anyway…

I don't own the Harry Potter series. Let's just accept that depressing fact and move on, okay, Warner Bros./J.K. Rowling? Of course I don't. The entire world would know if did. Mwa ha ha. Ha.

On with the show! (Story, fic, same difference.)

Oct. 25, Saturday

6:25 pm

I am writing very quickly, as our time is ticking and we need a running diary-_expedition journal_ of the events. Fred is currently installing a remote activated Swamp In A Box, to be remotely activated. With glee, of course. The bad thing is that mud does not shatter expensive three-dimensional works of art. Shame. Next thing we're making, if we survive, is a remote activated Sheer Cliff In A Box. Or quite possibly Meteorite Shower In A Box.

Destructive boxes aside, Fred is done, and he retreats to our hide-out with our audio recorder. And now we shall wait. Best of luck for the debut of our mission. Most likely, if we had something to drink, we'd toast our current success, but seeing as our supply of pumpkin juice is contaminated by arsenic, we will merely high five each other and say "Cheers!" very quietly.

This is George, signing off.

This is George, signing back in, because Fred was attempting to draw a picture of "Fox Stalker" and waste our precious paper. The diary-_expedition journal_ will remain in my hands for the rest of the pranking session.

Ahem. Yes, the pen too.

This is George signing off. Again.

Oct. 25, Saturday

7:28 pm

Mission "Swamp Up" success. Minor draw back of mud actually _protecting_ pottery. **Note to self: adjust solidity of Swamp.** However, it equals out, because the new heron (recently added), pooped repeatedly on the one-of-a-kind, imported unicorn silk tapestry, the only complete record of Salazar Slytherin's life. Shame. Not even _Tide_ could get those stains out. Now Slytherin is sealing the Chamber of Poop. Somehow, that's even _more _frightening.

And because Malfoy was too busy running from a boa constrictor, Fred had a chance to install another Swamp in his room. This'll be interesting because we've never had a life size alligator in a box before. In a way, this expedition is like our experiments. Malfoy is our guinea pig. Well, technically ferret.

Now my partner returns,

This is George, signing off.

Oct. 25, Saturday

10:15 pm

Audio recording

_Click. Shuffling noise in background._

Fred: Gary and I lie in wait, much like the genetically altered gator, for Malfoy to return to his room. Apparently he stays up very late. No wonder he's so pale.

George: I dunno, Frank. He's nowhere. Maybe the boa _did_ eat him.

Fred: It's no use getting our hopes up. He's probably off bowling in the Room of Requirement.

George: Shame. I bet he's enjoying himself.

Fred: Well, life can't always be perfect.

_Silence follows, then a door closes somewhere down a hallway and footsteps near the recorder._

George: whispering Here he comes. It's ready, right?

Fred: whispering Of course. What else have we been doing for the past three hours?

George: Fine! No need to use a tone with me, Mister!

Fred: I - There he goes! Get the remote!

George: Got it! Ready Fred?

Fred: Ready George.

Fred/George: 5…4…3…2…

_Pause_

Fred/George: 1 ¾…1 ½………0!

_Muffled boom, then a scratching noise. High-pitched scream, and running footsteps._

Fred: Wow, look at that gator go! She's really ticked!

George: Great seats. Right behind the portrait. The cut out holes to look through are especially handy.

Fred: Why thank you. Pass the popcorn.

George: Here you are, Frank.

_Slight pause that suggests Fred is giving George a very dirty and upset look._

Fred: It's "Fox Stalker"!

_Click._


	3. Mission Flooded Basement

Ah, another up-date on the way! I apologize if anyone was waiting desperately for a faster one. It's been a busy summer, but I got a laptop, so the world shall shine in my up-dating-ness palooza!

Disclaimer: I was wondering, late one night after a latte too many, how many Warner Bros. officials actually read fanfic. I mean, do they really care about this stuff? And if not, what is the whole bloody point of even writing a disclaimer, if they're not going to make any notice of it? But then I thought, What if they do read this, and I could be hauled off to some secret Eastern European prison if I didn't put one up? So here it is: I don't own Harry Potter and other assorted…ah…_references_, in aforesaid fanfic. There. I said it.

A note to readers:

This chapter is short, so bear with me as I type up the next one.

Enough with my crazed banter!

Vamos!

Oct. 27, Monday

4:33 pm

Despite my brother's previous entry, on Oct. 25, Saturday, at 6:25 pm, I have retained control of the diary-ahem-_expedition journal_ and will now draw the elite Fox Stal---

Damnit. George says I'm loosing my dessert privileges if I waste "precious" parchment on illustrating myself in a jet-black tux with a super hot chick in a skimpy evening dress while drinking cocktails. Any way, I'm supposed to be briefing the new operation.

Of course, due to out Code of Secrecy, I can't do that. Shame.

This is Fred, signing off.

Oct. 27, Monday

10:13 pm

I am writing for two reasons: a) to apologize for my brothers shameful waste of parchment gone to a pointless "brief" on our next mission and a dirty word. Shame on you, Fred.

The other reason is to report that operation "Flooded Basement" did not go as planned, or at all. This is immensely disappointing, because I was so looking forward to ruining that tapestry in further extent.

Although, draining the entire lake into the Slytherin common room might've resulted in actual harm…I mean where would all the fish and (ugly) merpeople go? ** Gasp! ** Where would our favorite Giant Squid go?!

Man, I'm almost glad all the pipes have watertight spells placed on them, now that I think about all the consequences.

Wait. My partner in pranking just came to me with very important information! I must away!

This is George, signing off.

Oct 27, Monday

10:45 pm

Breaking news. Stunning, absolutely fantastic news. News that made the failure of "Flooded Basement" so incompetent that it evaporated. News that will put the final touches on our Halloween prank. News that will shake the world's perception of the human (loosest term) _Draco Malfoy_.

Que dramatic music

This is George, signing off.

Now it starts to get interesting! Hopefully. Hmm…was it really that short, or am I just hallucinating? It could very easily be both; I'm known to have a fanciful imagination.

Until next up-date! (Which won't be very far off, I pray)


	4. Random Entries

Well, I hope you liked the cliffhanger from Chapter Three. Were you chomping at the bit to get Chapter Four?

Just as a heads up, this chapter and the next one are really, really, really _random_. Really. Keep in mind that no matter how frightening it may appear, it's all setting up the grand finale. Okay?

I'm also very sorry about how smashed together the previous installment was, I forgot about how this web site formats things. I'll try and keep it more separate this time.

ALSO: The last entry, Oct 30, Thursday, 3:14, is rated T for implied language. Do not read it if severe words are offensive, or if you haven't been reading fanfic long and/or haven't been to middle school yet and still have virgin ears.

Disclaimer: I don't own (insert name of chosen franchise here) in mind, body, spirit, or any other form of ownership.

And so, let it begin!

Oct. 28, Tuesday

2:37 pm

My comrade and I have done enough investigating and have deduced a dumbfounding result. Hidden behind the pooped on, slightly damp tapestry in the Slytherin Common room is-is-

"_Never Tickle A Sleeping Draco"™ by GinnyWazlibRocks™ will continue after these brief messages. Don't go press that button!_

_Suave™ is Suave-goodness!™_

_Now that I have Botex™ I can date again!_

_Buy Harry Potter™ and the Order of the Phoenix™ and see bloopers with Daniel Radcliff™! Go get that muggle™ device now!_

_Buy my car™._

_No! Buy my car™! My car™ is better!_

_No way. My car™ can whoop your guys car™ any day of the week!_

_Ha! All your cars™ suck! Mine will RULE the computer generated desert™/country _

_road™/tundra™! Plus it has cup holders™!_

_Get this baby™ doll™ that you feed then watch her pee™!_

_DON'T SMOKE POT™!!!_

_It's back to school™! Come on down to Shopko™ and save big™!_

_Closed captioning and other funding for "Never Tickle A Sleeping Draco"™ by GinnyWazlibRocks™ is provided by:_

_This Caucasian, blond™, blue-eyed™ doll can be you! She™ looks just like you, and you alone! _

_Are you sick of giving™ your money™ to credit card™ companies? Don't waste a second™ call now!™_

_Floam! ™_

_We're back to "Never Tickle A Sleeping Draco"™ by GinnyWazlibRocks™!_

_A BARBIE DOLL STASH!!!_

There was Ken, with bleached blond hair, and a customized Quiditch robe. There was Barbie, Kelly, the whole gang of freakishly thin girls that have permanently pointed toes at an angle that would most defiantly give you carpel tunnel syndrome in your feet.

They could've been anyone's, but spelled in white on the back of Ken's robes were the six letters:

M A L F O Y

George nearly passed out when he saw the Fariytopia set. It was an entire collection; all stored "secretly" behind the tapestry.

Halloween is coming. Let's see how Barbie's convertible reacts to my buddy, Mr. Firecracker.

Damnit. I wasn't supposed to reveal that stuff on operation "Heat it up"-

Damnit!

This is Fred signing off. (And hoping George doesn't read this, for many a reason.)

_Ten minutes after previous entry…_

Well George hasn't lost this, or been ambushed by a Shade and forced to magically transport. He did, however, _read it_. He was washing my mouth out with soap before you could say s. (Stupid anti-swear quills. Why do we even make these?!)

My dear brother has also tried to whiteout the "dirty words" and replace them with things like "Oh Fiddle Sticks!" and "Well shucks!" but I had put an impenetrable charm on it, in case anyone tried to steal. Apparently, said charm has a side affect of repelling any mistake fixing liquids.

While this entry was completely worthless expedition wise, I believe in documenting the social interactions as well.

This is Fred, signing off.

Oct 29, Wednesday

3:20 pm

I'm so bored. George is playing go fish with himself. The sad thing is, he's losing.

Originally, we'd be pranking Malfoy's pants off right about now, but with only a few more day until Halloween, we need to lull him into a false sense of security. Mwa ha ha ha. Ha. Ah….

Oh d. I just lost five sickles. I bet George would have two pairs by the time the other guy had six. It was a pretty safe bet, you'd think, until you've seen George play Joe Blow InvisaMan, aka, that voice in your head, which is often quite helpful. Oh, you're welcome!

Ahem, _any ways…_ I really need a life, other wise I'll end up just like Joe here.

Hmm… I've heard about this really cool muggle device. The Whee, I think it was called. Am I spelling that right? Yeah, probably. I mean, how else would you write Whee? Wii? Please.

Back on topic: I'd love to play a racing game. Those games are the best, because you can run over the cliff and into the ocean, and it just resets itself! Isn't that amazing?! OMG, I know!!!

Back on topic: It doesn't work in real life though, because George and I tried. Ouch. Those FBI agents were never the same again, especially after that small boy on a tricycle incident. Or the elk episode. (I mean, c'mon, who know those things could run so d fast?) Yeesh.

Back on topic: The Whee…Hey George just got all the twos. Maybe Joe Blow InvisaMan, aka that voice in your head _can_ be beat. Even though the past eight times George played him would prove otherwise, It's those d face cards!

Back on topic: The Whee.

Do I have ADHD? Because I'm finding it really hard to concentrate - look shiny! Hey, a spider….

Back on topic: _D_.

This is-

This is Fred, si-

Grr.

This is Fred, signing o-

Ah, you know the line.

Oct 30, Thursday

3:14

Bad news in the whole pranking department. Apparently Slytherin House tradition dictates that the younger years go from room to room, saying some rubbish like "Trick or Treat!"

What the h this is, I cannot fathom. Rumor says that it's from America, so it might be linked to the aforesaid Whee.

I wonder if it has anything to do with driving a car off a cliff. Or running over immortal zombie elk that run really fast. Children are pretty immortal too. At least enough to sue. But then again, that'd be a pretty complex game.

Back on topic: Oh, _sh_, here we bly go again. D.

George says I need to manage my language better. The little a-hole. But any way, he's setting up a "Swear Jar". According to him, if any one in the room says a word, or phrase, on the "Dirty Word List" they have to put in a knut. The money goes to the

Sunshine Sanctuary For Sick Dragons. Don't let my flame go out.™

George posted the "Dirty Words List" on the wall, and read it aloud, so we're clear on the "Dirty Words". Now he owes two sickles and four knuts to the "Swear Jar". The best part is that it beats you mercilessly over the head until you pay up.

Sucker.

And that lack of concentration in the previous entry was just because of oxygen deprivation. Apparently George was so paranoid about the Slytherins that he sealed of all air holes, but it's better now.

This is Fred, singing off.

Well? Was that a better length?

Sorry about the whole commercial thing, but my funding got cut and I had to put those in. If I offended any who uses or is emotionally attached to the mentioned products, I deeply apologize.

ginny


	5. The Devil Cat Dilemma

25/08/2007 10:33:00

Hmm.

It's been a bit longer than I expected to get the type up the next chapter. I think I need some sort of palm pilot, one that "bings!" incredibly shrilly, then shouts at the top of its little speakers "FANFIC WRITING 3 O'CLOCK PEE EM!!!" And then sings a jingle, like the Darth Vader theme song.

I'm joking of course. You guys know I love you, right my glorious readers?

Right.

Well, after I disclaim that I do not own any copy righted material mentioned in this fic, and even though nobody really cares about disclaimers I will state it anyway to avoid being drowned in an oily puddle of legal action and therapist bills, we can get this show on the road!

Ha ha! I just multitasked, proving I am, in fact, smarter than a goldfish!

All right, I'm also trying a new formatting technique, and comments on that would be handy.

_Evolutio!_

**Oct. 30, Thursday**

**9:28 pm**

It appears my inefficient brother didn't actually explain why the whole "Trick-or-treat" thing is bad in the first place.

You see, the little twerps will be interrupting a very important construction stage, what with them running all over the common room all dressed up as silly characters from mega-popular book series. And the common room, as horrifying as it is already, will be turned into the most nightmarish land that could ever be dreamed up in Malfoy's unpleasantly bleached hair, which must cause a lot of split ends.

A distraction will be needed to distract the aforesaid little twerps.

Hmm…

Perhaps I should go wandering through Hogwarts, to see if idea strikes me. In fact, I think I will.

This is George signing off.

PS:

_Note to self:_

Never read "Dirty Word List" aloud.

**Oct. 30, Thursday**

**10:42 pm**

I was so bored that I went out and bought this adorable kitten! Its name is, and let me see if I can write it without taking a break: Mr. Fluffums von Pussypurpur!

He's so _cute!!!_

I gave him a bed right next to George's, because I didn't want the litter box so close to our food supply, which is under my bed.

I'm sure George'll just _love_ 'em when he gets back!

This is Fred, and our newest prankster, Mr. Fluffums von Pussypurpur, signing off!

_Ten minutes after previous entry…_

I hate it. In the past five minutes after Fred convinced me that the oversized devil hamster _wasn't_ feral, it:

-coughed up in my shoe

-soiled my bed

-somehow dragged the litter halfway across the room

-Bit me (Fred insists it was just a "friendship nibble". I wasn't aware that friendship nibbles involve blood and foam.)

-sharpened its claws on the wall

-and shredded the rug to the point where it became rodent housing

Now I'm off to the hospital wing to get a rabies shot.

Stupid little -----------------

Ow. Sh--. Stupid Anti-swear jar too.

This is George, signing off.

AN: Damn. That one was short too. But I promise you; the next one will be much, much, much longer! Possibly the longest. Yes, I do believe so…

Well, any way, _donec porro portio!_

ginny


	6. Operation That Never Was

25/08/2007 10:33:00

I will disclaim Harry Potter and assorted franchises right now to keep from interrupting the "moment" below. [Disclaim-disclaim-disclaim

Done. So…

Here it is.

The closing installment. The last chapter. The final stand.

Let's get it on.

**Oct 31, Friday**

**9:13 pm**

**Video recording**

_Click_

_Frame is moved back and forth until it focuses on __George__ who is adjusting the camera. Behind him is a blank room with tow beds in the corner, one next to a shredded pile of assorted rugs and pet bed. Opposite the beds is a night table with a small jam jar overflowing wit Kunts, Sickles, and the occasional Galleon. Posted above the jar, which is twitching slightly, is a rather long list that is titled "Dirty Words List" with "do not read aloud" as a footnote.__ Fred__ is watching the camera skeptically._

Fred: I don't like it.

George: It's fine. Now we can record our best prank ever in 3-D glory!

Fred: I still think we should've bought the Wii instead.

George: Just drop it, okay?

Fred[_sighs and looks of into the distance_ Remember when we were pretending to be muggle racecar drivers in Dad's car, and we accidentally hit the gas pedal, and went storming through town at 90 mph?

George: And you yelled "Be warned, for I am the elite Fox Stalker!" out the window?

Fred: Yeah.

George[_rolls eyes and steps away from camera_There. Perfect. Is everything set and ready?

Fred: Yup. We have the Barbie Dolls, the lighter fluid, the flamethrower, the hedge clippers, the magnifying glass, the cactus, and the croquet mallet.

George: Excellent. And is Filch drunk?

Fred: Sure as hel-

_Jam jar in corner rattles. __Fred__ flinches._

Fred: -heck. Sure as _heck_.

George: Brilliant. The twerps?

Fred: Being distracted by Mr. Fluffums von Pussypurpur, the sweet little angel.

_George__ coughs and looks away. __Fred__ sits on bed farthest from cat box._

Fred: I guess there's nothing left to do but wait-

_Suddenly the door, below camera, bangs open. __Malfoy__ enters, brandishing wand._

Malfoy: Ha ha! I found you, you Barbie Doll jacking fiends!

Fred/George: Uh-oh.

_Malfoy __storms to the center of the room. His back is to the jam jar. __Fred/George__ remain where they are._

Malfoy: Damn little blood traitors! How could you take my most prized possessions? They'd better be alright-

_Behind __Malfoy__, the jam jar shoots into the air and begins beating __Malfoy__ over the head._

Malfoy: Ow, ow! What the hell? OW! Hey, watch it! Ow! Get the crap off me! _Ouch!_

_Malfoy__ continues to swear and swat pathetically at the jar, as it continues to beat him. Two men dressed in black suits enter and hold up badges, which read FBI._

FBI agent #1: We're the FBI.

FBI agent #2: We've been tracing a certain crazy driver across the globe.

FBI agent #1: Which one of you is the elite Fox Stalker?

_Fred/George__ glance at each other. __Fred__ bites his lip and tries to look inconspicuous, while __George__'s left eye begins to twitch._

FBI agent #2: C'mon, we've got a tight schedule. A plan leaves for Cu- I mean, _a prison_ in less than an hour. One of you three is the elite Fox Stalker!

_Fred/George __notice __Malfoy__, who is hopping around form foot to foot in a corner waving his arms about. The swear jar remains by his head._

Fred/George[_point_ He is.

_FBI agent #1__ pulls __Malfoy__ towards the door._

FBI agent #2: All right bub, let's go.

FBI agent #1: You got a lot of time to do in Cu- I mean, in _a prison_. And what's with your jar?

_Fred/George __sink back into the shadows, watching __Malfoy__, who is too busy to know what's going on, being arrested._

FBI agent #1: Wait. Our elite Fox Stalker was a red head!

FBI agent #2: You're right[_Pauses for climatic effect_ That red head[_Points to __Fred_

_Everyone including studio audience__ gasps loudly. __George__ swallows and scrambles over to his open trunk. He pulls out a canteen and quickly rubs off the skull and crossbones that had been drawn on the lid with dry erase marker._

George: Um… fancy some delicious [_cough_ pumpkin juice, uh, good sirs…?

_FBI agent #1/FBI agent #2__ look at each other and shrug, forgetting about arresting the enemy combatants._

FBI agent #1: Sure. Why not?

_George__ pours pumpkin juice into two conveniently appearing cups, and then hands them to __FBI agent #1/FBI agent #2__. They swallow it all in one go, choke, and fall over dead, or at least unconscious. __Malfoy__, still swearing profusely and swatting at the jar, leaves. The room is suddenly very quiet._

Fred: Well.

George: Arsenic. Gets 'em every time.

Fred: That was…exciting.

George: Agreed.

Fred: I wonder if Malfoy will ever pay up.

George: Does he even know what the jar was for?

Fred: Good point.

_Silence again, except for the slight gurgling noise coming form __FBI agent #1/FBI agent #2_

Fred: Are they dead?

George: Who cares, really?

_Fred__ leans forward, examining the bodies._

Fred: Yes. It appears they are.

George: Eh. It's nothing the miracle of modern medicine can't fix.

Fred: Right. Well, we should at least get them out of here; they're starting to smell.

_Fred/George__ raise wands._

George: Ready? Dipulso!

_FBI agent #1/FBI agent #2__ are thrown into the wall, which crumbles like plaster. The room is enveloped in dust. When it clears, mounds of rubble are heaped where __FBI agent #1/FBI agent #2__ once were._

George: Hm.

Fred: Ouch. Sucks to be them.

George: But again, nothing the miracle of modern medicine can't fix.

Fred: Very true. So, shall we continue with our pranking as planned?

George: Why not? You get the flamethrower, and I'll dig out the grappling hook-

_Suddenly, young children's screams and cries fill the air, accompanied by a cat's hiss and wail. A small, fuzzy kitten streaks in, jumps the plaster rubble, and backs into a far corner, tail erect and puffed. __Hoard of Shrieking Children__ follows it, all of its members dressed in ridiculous costumes._

Random Child #1: Look! Kitty!

Fred: Oh no! Mr. Fluffy von Pussypurpur! What have they done to you[_Gasp_ Where's your collar?

Random child #2[_holds up diamond studded collar_ He he! Shiny!

Fred: His bling! Give it to me, twerpo!

Random Child #1: Give us kitty!

Fred: Never!

_Hoard of Shrieking Children__ surges forward towards the cat. The cat hisses, leaps into the air and begins shredding the room and it's occupants. The cloud of dust is conveniently raised to cover inappropriate violence. __Fred/George/Hoard of Shrieking Children__ are making noises such as "Ouch!" and "Hey!" and "Gerrof!" and "AHH! MY FACE, MY FACE! MY BEAUTIFUL FACE! IT STINGS!" and assorted curse words, voiced surprisingly by several children, whom you wouldn't have though would have such a wide vocabulary. When the cat runs out of carbohydrates, collapsing on the ground, and the dust conveniently settles, children are bleeding, while __Fred/George__ are on the ground, close to tears by their once mighty stash of equipment._

Fred: Our pranks - our things!

George: It's all been shredded to rodent housing!

Fred: I can't believe it! All that planning, gone to waste!

_Author of this fic__ enters and looks around._

Author of this fic: Sorry about making the cat destroy all your stuff, but if I didn't, you'd have to use it.

Fred: What's wrong with that? Using it was the whole point!

Author of this fic: Well, the truth is –

Fred/George/Hoard of Shrieking Children[_Leans in closer_ Yes?

Author of this fic: Is –

Fred/George/Hoard of Shrieking Children: _Yes?_

Author of this fic: I never actually had a Halloween prank planned[_hides head in hands_

Fred/George/Hoard of Shrieking Children: Gasp!

Author of this fic: Yes, I'm sorry. I can't work like this[_Bursts into tears and runs from room_

_As her footsteps fade, people exchange glances and raised eyebrows._

Fred: You know, she was kind of a loser.

George: Yeah, always apologizing and rambling on.

Fred/Hoard of Shrieking Children: What?

George: Nothing. [_Breaks the fourth wall and winks at reader_ Now who wants ice cream?

Fred/Hoard of Shrieking Children: Oh! Us!

George: Great! Let's go find the Swear Jar, and use Malfoy's donation money to buy it!

_Fred/George/Hoard of Shrieking Children Carrying Cat__ file out chattering happily. The room is quiet for a few moments, then __Author of this fic__ enters and smirks, then reaches up and turns off the camera._

_Click._


End file.
